


Disco Stick

by Miyukitty



Series: SASOikawa 2017 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Art School, Banter, Dick Jokes, Fluff and Crack, Genital Piercing, M/M, Nude Modeling, SASO 2017, The thirst is real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-12 07:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11157513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miyukitty/pseuds/Miyukitty
Summary: Written for the prompt:AU where Seijou is an art school and their joint anatomy/whatever class has to sketch a nude model with a very impressive package. (Who has the dick piercing?)





	Disco Stick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chiharu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiharu/gifts).



> why yes, it's sasoikawa season again! hi, i'm miyu and i had one life drawing class ten years ago and this is what my education was for

Oikawa took a long swig of his caramel macchiato as he battled the urge to yawn. His sadistic professor made it a requirement to hand in one hundred figure drawings along with his final project – one hundred! – and he left it for the last week because he'd just been so busy with everything else. Art school was ridiculous.

  
  
Still, whoever decided eight to ten AM was a good time slot for the only open life drawing session was surely the devil. Oikawa was not, nor would he ever be, a morning person. Even with double his usual espresso he could barely keep his eyes open, let alone devote energy to the shenanigans unfolding around him.

  
  
"Psssst."

  
  
"What's up, buttercup?"

  
  
"I think the next model is him."

  
  
"Him who?"

  
  
"You know… _him_."

  
  
"Ooh… _him_. We gotta get Prince Charming's name this time."

  
  
"Surely you mean Prince _Albert_."

  
  
Hanamaki and Matsukawa chortled loudly into their sketchbooks. In the corner Yahaba snorted, but covered it up with furious scribbling.

  
  
Oikawa rolled his eyes. He could point out the freshman in the room because they were the only ones taking it seriously – their heads bowed, charcoal smudged across their brows and staining their fingernails. Kunimi and Kindaichi studiously avoided making eye contact with the nude woman posing in the center of the small room, but all the older students were desensitized to artistic nudity (or at least, they _should_ have been, by now).

  
  
"Could you two _be_ any more distracting? I'm trying to actually pass my class. Neither of you even need to be here," Oikawa whined.

  
  
He flipped to a clean page in his sketchbook and started a new gesture. Matsukawa slung an arm around Oikawa's shoulders and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Oikawa set his charcoal stick down again and mustered a tired glare.

  
  
"Mattsun. You know I love you filthy perverts dearly but I am too sleep deprived to care this much about some guy's junk."

  
  
"Tooru, Tooru, Tooru. You sweet summer child. You have not been coming to these modeling sessions as long as we have. This is not just any old junk. You are in for a special treat," Matsukawa promised.

  
  
Next to him, Hanamaki swept his arms wide and stage whispered, "This is the best reason to get out of bed before the crack of dawn, I swear to you. Half the people in here don't even need to be here. They _chose_ to be here at this hour."

  
  
"We may be prone to exaggeration from time to time," Matsukawa admitted.

  
  
Hanamaki nodded in sage agreement.

  
  
"…But in this case, the legends are real."

  
  
Oikawa scoffed. Although… it _did_ seem like the small studio was more crowded than it had been the last time he was here.

 

Oikawa watched as the female model pulled her robe on and bowed to the audience before exiting. Every artist in the room sat a little straighter, watching the doorway with eager eyes. Yahaba was actually sharing his easel with Kyoutani, though it was an uneasy peace broken by repeated elbows to the ribs. Hanamaki sat on Matsukawa's lap to make room for Watari.

 

Even Kunimi was fidgeting. _Kunimi_.

  
  
"You see," Hanamaki continued, "We've been spreading the word about our… hobby."

  
  
"We call it birdwatching," Matsukawa added helpfully.

  
  
"We consider ourselves connoisseurs of well-hung birds. And what you're about to see," Hanamaki said without even bothering to keep his voice down, "Is the most girthy bird we've ever had the pleasure to ogle."

  
  
Oikawa choked on the last of his coffee.

  
  
God, the idiots were actually making him a little nervous. This was beginning to feel like some elaborate prank designed to humiliate him into admitting he wanted to see the biggest dong on campus. Unlike them, Oikawa had a legitimate and non-perverted reason for being here: he just wanted to fill this sketchbook and be done with it. However big Piercing-kun was, it only mattered if Oikawa could draw him one hundred times, assets and all.

  
  
He kept his head down as the music started – this was an art school, damn it, not a strip club – and waited for some of the hushed whispers to peter out before sneaking a peek.

  
  
And... oh.

 

Nobody had mentioned Piercing-kun also had _muscles_.

  
  
The male model everyone was cooing over had the rugged build of an athlete; tanned skin stretched taut over hard lines of muscle. Oikawa found himself slack jawed and staring at the naked man's broad shoulders, defined biceps, triceps, and every kind of 'ceps, really, his mind was stalling for vocabulary because he'd just forgotten how to breathe. This was, hands down, the hottest guy he'd ever seen in his life.

 

(And of course, it had to be at ass o'clock in the morning after staying up too late when he hadn't had time to shower or do his hair. Because of course.)

  
  
Oikawa felt like a freshman all over again, blushing and trying not to make eye contact as his gaze explored every inch of those abs. A treasure trail of dark hair led his stare past the navel, inevitably down, down, downward to the coup de grâce.

  
  
Morning sunlight filtered through the studio window, causing the tiniest glint of metal to sparkle like a bead of dew perched at the tip of a thick, curving tree limb.

  
  
"He totally winked at you just now," came a voice too close to his ear.

  
  
Oikawa flinched violently. The charcoal in his fist cracked in two as his voice squeaked up an octave.

  
  
"Shut _up_ , Mattsun, he did no such thing and what makes you think he's into guys, anyway?"

  
  
"Because this is art school, duh. Name a single straight person in this room."

  
  
"Makki-"

  
  
"Definitely not."

  
  
"I can vouch for that."

  
  
"Both of you, shut the hell up," Oikawa hissed desperately, but it was too late.

  
  
He glanced up and found himself staring directly into the man's warm hazel-green eyes. Piercing-kun was smiling at him, clearly amused, though he was professional enough not to budge from the pose he was holding.

  
  
Oikawa felt his ears burn hotter than the surface of the sun.

  
  
He buried his face in his sketchbook for the rest of the session, and didn't even bother to pretend he was drawing until it was mercifully over.

 

* * *

  
  
"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," Oikawa seethed as Hanamaki and Matsukawa high-fived.

  
  
"That was as satisfying as the first time Kyoutani-kun saw him," Hanamaki giggled. "Dude was straight-up drooling. I wish I had my phone on me that day."

  
  
"Mm, he kinda still does that, though," Matsukawa commented, squinting across the room. "Oh, hang on. I'm gonna go help Kindaichi-kun. I think he got an honest-to-god nosebleed."

  
  
Oikawa groaned and curled up on the floor.

  
  
"Just step over me on your way out. I have to find some other way to get a hundred figures because I can certainly never show my face here again," Oikawa announced to the floorboards. "I _would_ ask to kindly claim your sketchbooks as reparations for the damage you've done to my fragile psyche, but I shudder to think what you've been drawing all this time."

  
  
"A wise decision, o fragile one."

  
  
"Oh? You're not coming back? That’s a shame," rumbled an unfamiliar voice above him.

  
  
Oikawa cracked one eye open.

  
  
Piercing-kun was standing nearby in his robe with a water bottle, calmly surveying the pathetic puddle Oikawa Tooru had been reduced to by this humiliating morning.

  
  
"Here I was thinking you might end up one of the regulars," the model continued. "You seemed like you were enjoying yourself."

  
  
"He certainly was," Hanamaki chimed in helpfully. "We all were."

  
  
Oikawa flushed and sputtered with indignation, but the model just laughed. He had a nice, deep laugh, strong and baritone and not unkind.

  
  
"If you guys need any specific poses for your projects, you can let me know beforehand and I'll do my best to help you out," Piercing-kun continued with a shrug. "You'd be surprised at how long I can hold a handstand."

  
  
He offered Oikawa a hand up from the floor, though Oikawa could only stare, too dazed to respond with any of his usual charm. It really wasn't fair how good this guy looked even in a fuzzy bathrobe covered in cartoon Godzilla print. The model was saying something else – continuing his introduction – but all words were lost on Oikawa as the untied robe gently fluttered open before his eyes.

  
  
The curve of a steel bead gleamed in artistic contrast against soft, bare skin. Oikawa blinked slowly.

  
  
"You know, maybe I could try to be back for tomorrow's session. I'd like to see that handstand of yours," Oikawa offered conversationally. He still hadn't looked up.

  
  
The model grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Yeah! Looking forward to it!"

  
  
"Me too," Hanamaki grinned. "Oh, me too."

**Author's Note:**

> please read lin's [PWP fill of this prompt](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11154078), it is the filthy iwaoi sequel in my heart ///


End file.
